


Nothing Better

by Frosted_Stardust, menaceboy12345



Category: New Politics, Original Work, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosted_Stardust/pseuds/Frosted_Stardust, https://archiveofourown.org/users/menaceboy12345/pseuds/menaceboy12345
Summary: It's a hot, steamy summer evening when Mike "Hate-The-Gays" Pence discovers the wonders of his horse's outside





	Nothing Better

The day was hot, humid, wet. Mike Pence came back to the barn exhausted, sweat dripping from his brow, his hair looking like he just got out from the wash. Patchy stubble lined his soft jawline from years of unsuccessfully trying to grow a beard. His right thumb was poking out from his mouth as he sucked a small cut he received while tending to the field. He tried to curse under his breath, but alas, the thumb got in the way.

 _Bloody h-e-double-hockey-sticks, it’s hot out here_ , he thought, _I need to get out of this thick shirt._  He grabbed the bottom of his button-up, and gradually started to expose his un-toned belly, complete with a happy trail descending below his pants. The left sleeve came off easily, but the right was another story. No matter how hard Pence tried, he could not manage to extract the shirt from his person while keeping his thumb sheltered from the elements. So as he approached the hulking farmhouse, the shirt was just left hanging off his right arm, where it may be annoying, but at least the thumb was safe.

When he reached the door, he had yet another realization: _Butter my behind and call me a biscuit, how am I gonna unlock this door?_  The key to his door was located in his back-right pocket. One master plan later, Pence was doing small circles on the porch as he tried to contort his small arm so that it reached his pocket. A couple spins later, flesh met steel, and he exclaimed “mhh HMM, MPPHH GMPHH THP KMHHH” through his, still bleeding, thumb. He thrust his arm into a victory pose, and in the process, hit himself so hard on the back of the head that he was sent into a dizzying spiral, collapsing onto the hammock. As Pence waiting for his world to stop turning around him, he closed his eyes and thought of his happy place: bed.

He was woken up half an hour later by a wet object covering his face in sopping slime. Pence wiped the ooze off his eyes, then opened them to find the source of this sticky solution. His search was met by the amber eyes of Monika, his childhood horse. The two of them basically grew up together. Monika came into his life as a young foal when Pence was only 5, and, not knowing the differences between foal genders, was promptly named after Pence’s great-grandmother. And that’s how a male horse ended up with the name of a 1920s flapper girl. Over the years, Pence and Monika developed a connection deeper than he had with even his family. Now, Pence didn’t even feel the need to keep him in a stable; there was nowhere else Monika would rather be than at the farm. Smiling, Pence sat up and stroked Monika’s long, golden mane, resting his hand for just a moment at the top of Monika’s head so he could lower his ears before Pence continued down his neck. They settled into a relaxing rhythm of ears down, ears up, ears down, ears up…

It’s Pence’s tenth birthday. His parents are letting him ride Monika for the first time because “he had reached double digits now.” Ears up, ears down. By thirteen, Pence starting bringing Monica to equestrian events. Ears up, ears down. They lost miserably. Both of them had a great time. Up, down, up, down. It wasn’t until he was fourteen that they finally won a blue ribbon, in jumping, if he remembered correctly. Ears, ears, ears. It’s his sixteenth birthday. They know each other’s habits like the back of their hands (or...hooves). Ears down. Pence is eighteen. It’s his first adult event. He’s cocky. Ears up. Monika barely avoided hitting the first jump, his hooves grazing off the metal. Ears down. Pence didn’t notice. Ears up. The second jump, they weren’t so lucky. Monika’s back legs got caught in the poles and...ears down. He stopped riding that day. Didn’t want to hurt his friend any more.

Mike snapped back to reality, breaking the rhythm of the activity. The two stared into each others eyes, poop brown meets glistening golden-amber. Two minds became one. Pence kissed the horses head, ready to go back into the house, but...it felt like the horse was all too eager to receive Pence’s luscious lips.  _It was probably just my imagination_ , Pence concluded, getting up from the house. He fit the key into the lock and entered his home.

Immediately to his right was a massive marble kitchen, fitted with an island and the most advanced oven money could buy. Pence finally took his thumb out from its warm cavern and washed it underneath the faucet. From behind the counter, Pence could look out over his living area. Three couches were arranged facing a large bear rug, a plastic apple perched delicately in the bear’s mouth. Along the walls were various animal heads: deer, moose, bear, you name it. He didn’t kill any of them, but he sure did buy them all from people that did. Made the home seem...rustic. A medium size flat-screen TV was set up in between these heads, positioned such that the overall aesthetic of the room was not affected. Even the dining table fit the theme, a deep mahogany table set a bit behind the couches to fill up a corner the would otherwise be empty. Although eight chairs were set up behind the table, Pence only ever sat in one: an end chair embedded with so many jewels and fabric it could pass as a king’s throne.

Mike took his hand out from under the sink, gently applied a Hello Kitty band-aid, all the while humming, “I am stuck on Band-Aid cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me.” He walked past the couches and ornate decorations as if they were normal house decor, and entered his favorite room: the bedroom. Within, the rustic aesthetic was completely discarded in favor for the decorating styles of a thirteen-year-old girl. Posters lined the wall, some were pictures of equestrian events, others were pictures of young men in tight-fitting clothes. Not an inch of the wooden walls could be seen through this onslaught of visual information. A canopy bed rest in along one wall, delicate, velvet curtains descended along the sides of the bed. Poking out from underneath these curtains was a glimpse of ivory white, thousand thread sheets. What the curtains hid, however, was much more important for Pence. Laying among a few (surprisingly ordinary) pillows lay Pence’s favorite possession: a body pillow of Donald Trump. On one side, Trump is wearing a suit, standing legs open in a power pose, but on the other side, well, Pence got to see what was underneath that suit.

Pence walked over to his closet, and opened it, revealing a selection of button-up blue shirts with matching blue jeans. He removed the shirt from his right arm, careful not to disrupt Hello Kitty, and proceeded to take off his pants, the denim rubbing against his inner thigh until it revealed what resembled a penis. It was hard to tell, really, due to its small size. Some of his high school girlfriends went so far as to call it a micropenis, but they were just mean (or so Pence told himself). Despite its obvious state, Pence refused to admit that his dick made dwarf penises look like they belonged to Ron Jeremy. _Size doesn’t matter_. He took the pants off his legs and tossed them in the pile, all the while trying to ignore his absolutely disgraceful dick.

Pence walked wistfully over to his shower, all the while trying to dismiss the laughs, taunts, and the “Wait...that’s your penis???” comments from his mind. The shower had lovely marble along its walls and complimentary tiling on the ground. It could fit 5 people at the same time without anyone feeling cramped, and it even had a detachable nozzle so that everyone could have a turn at the waterflow. Admittedly though, Pence had only ever used the shower alone, on account of the *normal sized* penis. He turned on the shower, spending five minutes simply adjusting the temperature to his liking, then entered into the splash zone. He let the warm water rush across his face, and he could feel the dirt from a long day’s work just wash away as he entered into a state of calm bliss.

Pence exited the shower, grabbed a Spider-Man towel, and proceeded to dry off, spending a little more time cleaning his ass then he usually does. He returned into his closet, put on a Peppa Pig onesie, and climbed into bed. Donald found his way between Pence’s arms and legs as he lay in the fetal position. And finally, with Donald by his side, Pence managed to get some good sleep.

Pence was back in the shower, calm as can be. Clear water soaked does his back as, eyes closed, he embraced the flow. But something felt...off. The water wasn’t flowing as easily as it should. Pence opened his eyes, and the water that should be clear was instead a semi-transparent white. Almost see-through, but not quite. Pence looked up to see what happened to the shower head, but his eyes met the head of a thick cock. Continuing to look around, he seemed to be underneath some four legged animal, furry, yet sleek. Unable to resist, Pence reached up and gripped the fat cock between his baby fingers. The calming fluid returned to meet his face. Some of it got into his mouth, and it tasted...sweet? Pence started to work the cock slowly, opening his mouth to get more of this sweet juice, and he was rewarded. He felt something stirring up within him, as if he were going to…

Mike snapped upright in his bed. He surveyed his surroundings. Yep, same bed, same curtains, same Donald. But something felt...off. Pence felt something between his legs. A small spot had formed from within his onesie. It felt sticky to the touch.  _What the jumping Jehovah's Witness happened?_  Pence wondered as he carefully removed his onesie. He tried to banish the dream from his mind as he washed his torso, but that seemed impossible. That dream. Something awoke within him that he never knew was there.  _A horse though? What was up with that?_  Questions ran through Pence’s mind as fast as The Gays run away from conversion camp.  _Yes, conversion camp. Just think about conversion camp._  But no matter how hard he tried, he could only imagine the horse giving those other men that sticky stuff in the camp, and, for some reason, he felt intensely jealous, like only he should be allowed to have that horse’s special sauce in his mouth.

But he couldn’t think of that now. It was morning, and that meant chores. First on the list: cleaning the horses. So Mike Pence quickly threw on a blue button-up and jeans, and made his way quickly (and with a weird determination) to the horse stabled. He whistled for Monika to join them, and could hear the trotting of his hooves entering the stable behind him. Pence turned around and Monika’s amber eyes caught him off guard. His heart-rate quickened, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

Ignoring the mounting pressure inside him, Pence grabbed the brush and started to work on Monika. He started at the top of his back, then slowly went lower down to get a comprehensive clean. When he reached the beginning of Monika’s back, where he usually stops, he got the weird urge to continue just a little further down.

He shrugged off this feeling and rose to grab the hose to start washing Monika down. He made his way to the stable door, but Monika walked in front of him, blocking his path. Pence side-stepped, trying to get past the massive mammal. Monika, however, was insistent. He nudged pence with his velvety nose, eager to be stroked. Pence, while still unsure, hesitantly stroked Monika’s Jeffree Star like face back. Though Monika could not speak, Pence was positive that he was asking for permission. For what, he was still unaware, but he trusted his best friend implicitly. Because of his horse’s endearing actions, Pence’s love for him blossomed from companionate love to that of passion. His heart grew three times its normal size, just like Monika’s dick when it was fully unsheathed. Pence had never seen a dick of this magnitude of this before, as he only had his micro-penis as reference. And, oh, was it glorious. It was a whole foot long. The bulbous head dripped with a substance that could only be described like ambrosia, a nectar fit for the gods. But it didn’t end there. 11 inches, and what seemed like scrutinizing hours later, there were his balls. They shone in the morning sun, and the bright rays of light emphasized their watermelon-like size.

Although they had both seen each other in various states of undress, this time was different. His nipples hardened with excitement, even more so than the hard glares he gave to those pesky Gays. He couldn’t seem to get his clothes off fast enough, and Monika seemed to share his impatience. His premonition was right- he had only managed to slide his hillbilly blue jeans down when Monika’s unyielding hooves slammed his unfit underbelly into the fence. A loud CRACK resounded through the vacant countryside. Whether it was the fence, his back, or a combination of both, Pence didn't care. All that mattered was  _Monika_ \- the love of his life. Mother was only an afterthought compared to the overwhelming, unadulterated love he was currently receiving from  _his_  horse. Soon he felt a sharp, stabbing pain at his puckered, raisin-like hole. Though, compared to the pain from his broken back and the numerous splinters scattered throughout his broken body, this was nothing.  _This is what love should feel like._  It was reminiscent to the first time he had hatecrimed one of The Gays; they were just  _screaming_ in excitement. “NGhhh Daddy Monika… please, fuck me! I’m begging you!” he screamed out in ecstasy as he came prematurely. “I want your cock so fucking deep inside me, deeper than God’s hatred for those horrible homos~” His asshole fluttered around the horse’s engorged head.

As Monika continued to push deeper in, Pence could feel every veiny edge of Monika’s cock. His vision went white accompanied by a burst of pleasure. The sweat glistened off Mike Pence’s bare back while they were doing it bareback. One buck later, and Monika bottomed out inside of his ass. He let out a dissatisfied snort, as he couldn’t fit even half of it inside the tiny human. He continued ramming Pence into the ground, and little by little, he managed to pop his girthy head inside Pence’s colon. Unfortunately, or in Pence’s perspective fortunately, the horse dick continued to engorge while inside of him. When Monika bucked again to get into a better position, he could no longer exit Pence’s raisiny ass. The saggy globes only bounced and hit Monika’s stomach. The pressure exerted from Pence’s ass and colon finally caused Monica to come. Sticky, sweet ropes of ejaculate coated Pence’s dry ass. He finally felt whole. Complete.  _I wish this would never end_. This was the first time he had felt peace in his adult life apart from hatecriming people and sending them to conversion camps in God’s name. It seemed like Monika had finally found peace too.

When Pence had him injured in an equestrian competition, their once close bond had begun to fray. Monika no longer trusted his companion implicitly. But now, with two bodies joined to become one, their relationship had completely mended- unlike Pence’s still splintered spine.

Once the afterglow had settled, Monika soon became distressed. He was still stuck. He tried to walk, trot, canter, and gallop away, however, Pence still remained. All the jostling hardened his dick even more. Several rounds later, the come had finally lubricated his colon enough to slip back free, and Mike Pence fell on the ground with a sickening  _THUD. This will be fun to explain to the hospital later._  Though, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. He could pay them all off anyways. Or just ruin their careers similarly to how Monika completely wrecked his ass. But he knew in his heart, he’d be  _back_  later for more. Maybe, he thought, size did matter. After all, he couldn’t have had this blissful experience without a footlong.

Turns out, having sex with a broken back really isn’t good. It gets even worse when being consistently rammed into the ground by an animal with its cock almost touching your kidney. He called 911 from on the ground, and he was still naked on the ground when they arrived later that day. They lifted him onto a gurney, tried suppressing their laughs at his micropenis, and took him to the hospital. Miraculously, a couple weeks later, Pence emerged with a back brace, but no permanent damage. He even managed to get one of the doctors sent to conversion camp during his stay. He always was good at smelling out The Gays.

Sadly, Pence’s relationship with Monika couldn’t last forever. Horses only live for twenty-five years, and Monika was pushing on twenty-three when they had their romp in the stables. But that didn’t mean Pence was done for good. Oh no, over the years Pence had gotten to know many many horses: Amanda, Sammy, Poppy, Ruth, and Mother. None of them compared to the pure bliss he felt with Monika, but he enjoyed their presence all the same. It was after one of these particular romps that Pence realized,  _People should know how amazing this is_. So he pulled out his trusty iPhone, opened up Twitter, and posted, “Outstanding afternoon, ‘I’ve often said there’s nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.” He closed his phone and smiled, knowing that he was bringing people to the light.


End file.
